Drabblethon 2010
by Jakia
Summary: One writer's journey in procrastination. Now simply a collection of drabbles, ranging from genre to genre, for any character and pairing requested. Various. Updated whenever.
1. Alistair x Morrigan, demon baby

**Alistair/Morrigan,** **demon baby**

In truth, he never actually expected to see her, this child of his he so unwillingly helped create. And yet here he is, holding his newborn daughter at a distance, fully expecting her to start breathing fire or to sprout wings.

She was actually quite normal looking for a demon baby. He was disappointed.

Morrigan sighed at him. "Well?"

"Uh, she's sort of red. And, um, scrunchy."

And she was quite tiny, too, even if he thought the small poof of black curls on top of her head was adorable.

Morrigan looked like she might hit him if she wasn't so absolutely exhausted.

"I mean, this is a demon baby! Shouldn't she have horns? Scales? Breathe fire?"

Morrigan rolled her eyes. " 'Tis not some demon child! She has the spirit of an Old God in mortal flesh! It won't be until she matures before the Old God takes form. Why? Were you expecting me to give birth to an Abomination? Perhaps you expected a fully-formed _dragon_ to come out of my womb?"

In some ways, he wished the baby _had_ been an Abomination. At least then it would have been easy to hate her. And it *is* difficult to hate this child in his arms, his own flesh and blood.

The baby coos at him softly, and he knows he is done for.


	2. Alistair x f Cousland, gossip

**Alistair/Cousland, gossip**

"So now that you're back I wanted to know what you think about your new recruits..."

His wife rolled her eyes at him. "Gossiping again, are we?"

Her husband grinned. "Naturally. You have to keep me entertained _somehow_ after leaving me for months, you vile temptress."

She wanted to point out that if he let her give him a _proper_ farewell kiss perhaps his imagination could have kept him entertained, but she let it slide and tried to humor him instead. "Alright. What do you want to know?"

"Oghren. You know, I'm really surprised he survived the Joining, actually."

"You and me both."

"How could you stand the stench?"

She grinned. "Same way I did last time. I left him back at camp for the most part."

"Niiicccceee. Well, what about that apostate, Anders? The Templar lady said he was dangerous."

She paused. "I wouldn't call Anders _dangerous_, per say. A little lonely, I think. And desperate for freedom. I think the Wardens will be good for him, actually. Gives him a purpose but lets him have some fresh air and sunshine."

"Okay. I'll take your word for it." He looked over the list in his hands before a wild, feral grin appeared on his face. "Okay, this one I _have_ to know about: a Howe? _Really?_ You recruited a Howe and didn't immediately have him hanged?"

She scowled. "I wasn't going to punish Nathaniel for his father's crimes."

"Yeah, but he tried to kill you!"

"Well, so did Zev. And Sten at one point."

"So what you're saying is that's just how you make friends?"

She giggled. "Yeah, I guess it is."

"Well, I'm just glad I never had to fight you to earn your friendship."

She bent over and kissed his naked chest. "Oh, I don't know—I feel a bit like sparring right now, actually."

"Hmm."

"Alone."

She kissed his chest again. "With you?"

He laughed. "Naked?"

"But of course. So are you done gossiping or what?"

"Almost. Just tell me one thing: did you miss me as much as I missed you?"

She leaned forward again, this time capturing his lips with her own. "Not a moment went by where I didn't miss you terribly, my love. Never forget that."

He never did.


	3. Alistair and Anders, upbringing

**Alistair + Anders**, **upbringing**

"So let me get this straight—you were trained to become a Templar?"

The King glared at him. "I didn't have much of a choice, you know."

"How could you _not?_ It's not like they locked you up in a prison Tower and made you train in the Templar arts. You're the bloody _king."_

"And before that, I was a bastard."

Anders couldn't help himself. "And before that?"

The King grinned. "Dogs. Giant, slobbering dogs. From the Anderfels."

"Ah. So, from the sound of things, your mother must have been a bitch, huh?"

"And from the sound of things, your mother must have been a pussy.*"

Anders couldn't help but smile. "Touché, my friend. Touché."

From his backpack, Ser-Pounce-A-Lot mewed.

* * *

*Pussy---pussycat. Not slang for female parts. Though that works too, if you want.


	4. Alistair x m Tabris, noncon

**Alistair/m!Tabris, non-con**

**WARNING. NON-CON.** Also, first try at non-con.

**ALSO, NOT SAFE FOR WORK. THIS CHAPTER IS M RATED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

* * *

He shouldn't be doing this, but _Maker,_ it feels good to have a human underneath him for once.

It's not really fair, because out of all the humans in the world, Alistair is perhaps the only one who treats him kindly. Though perhaps it's out of that kindness that Soren wants this, wants it so badly he's willing to violate a friendship, a bond of trust.

Alistair doesn't want this, after all. Alistair doesn't like men, be they elf or human, doesn't like the hardness of their bodies or the roughness of their kisses. If this was how Alistair wanted it, there would be a woman, soft and delicate and maybe a little snarky, moaning beneath him in a slow, loving rhythm.

But this isn't about what Alistair wants. For the first time ever, this is about what Soren Tabris wants.

And Soren wants to fuck Alistair blind.

The human man squirms beneath him, sobbing and screaming and sometimes, sometimes _moaning,_ when Soren moves against him and hits that right bundle of nerves. That's the best part, knowing that somewhere inside of him, this human _wants_ it. Wants the feeling of an elf inside of him, pounding relentlessly.

It is a good feeling.


	5. Alistair x f Suaran, desksex

**THIS CHAPTER IS ALSO M-RATED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED**

* * *

**Alistair/f!Surana, desksex**

He thought he was over her.

Maker, he was a fool. How could he ever get over _this,_ this warmth, this beauty, this feeling of her pressed against him, her tongue pink and luscious and dancing across his skin.

His mage. His beautiful, beautiful mage.

He groans as she bites down on his neck, and he tries to force the images of his wife and daughter out of his mind as she pushes him back onto the desk.

"Neria..." He whispers gently as she tugs at the buttons on his collar. "Neria..."

But he is not innocent in this sport, this game of lovers broken. He pulls at the strings at the back of her robes, revealing her body to him. There are scars that weren't there the last time they made love, and he finds his hands tracing over them, trying to force himself into their memory.

His shirt is gone, and she begins kissing down his chest, and she is silent, _so damn silent,_ and he wants, almost as much as he wants her body, for her to say something, to whisper his name, her love.

So he finds himself on top of her, pushing her out of her small clothes and touching her in places that have haunted his dreams. Then she moans, whispers his name,_ faster, please, Alistair._

He has forgotten how warm she is, how hot and wet her center is. How much better sex is when you love the person you are with, when need outweighs duty.

As he spills inside of her, he wonders if he will ever be able to look his wife in the face again.

Probably not.


	6. Fergus and f Cousland, marrying the king

This chapter is gen, PG stuff again. :D

* * *

**Fergus + f!Cousland, Marrying the King**

It was wonderful, having Fergus back. Truly, she had missed him terribly and had cried fat alligator tears when she thought he might be dead out there alone in the Wilds.

Now, however, she felt she might kill him.

"My little sister is a hussy." He whispered to her conspiratorially, a few weeks after his return to civilization. "No wonder you were never interested in the gentlemen Mother introduced you to. You had higher ambitions, didn't you?"

Elissa flushed scarlet and kicked him under the table. "I happen to love Alistair, thank you, and I would marry him regardless of what social class he belonged to. He could be a pig farmer and I would still want to marry him."

Fergus paused, rubbing his beard curiously. "That may be true, but I also know you. You love this whole 'Queen Cousland' thing. You love bossing people around—Maker knows you've done it to me all our lives. No wonder you're marrying this guy, he's going to let you boss around a whole country!"

She kicked him again. "I am marrying Alistair because I. Love. Him."

"Uh-huh. Should I warn my future brother-in-law that he's putting a tyrant on the throne?"

She kicked him harder.


	7. Zevran, banana hammock

**Zevran, banana hammock**

The thought of returning to the coastal paradise of Highever had been entirely Elissa's idea. The group needed a day off, and since they left Solder's Peak, Highever was less than a day away. A day on the beach would do everyone some good, Elissa thought, even if it hurt to look up at the giant castle that use to be home and know no one was inside.

It was a good idea, at least until Elissa remembered she travelled with a bunch of perverts.

The first problem had been Leliana, who walked out on the beach topless.

"What?" The bard asked. "This is what they wear to the beach in Orlais. Is it not appropriate?"

"You are going to give some old woman a heart attack. _Please."_

And for thirty seconds, Elissa thought the crisis may be over.

Then Zevran walked out.

"Maker's breath," Elissa sighed. "What are you _wearing?"_

"It's called a _hamaca del plátano._ I think the word for it in Ferelden is...banana hammock, I think? Either way, it's sexy, no?"

One could say that. It certainly left little to the imagination.

Behind her, Alistair's nose started bleeding.

"Zevran, go put on some shorts. Preferably ones that don't show off your manhood to the world."

The elf scowled. "You Fereldens are so finicky—"

"_Now_, Zev."

The elf sighed, then turned around to go change.

Elissa let out the breath she had been holding, leaned back into her comfortable beach chair, and began relaxing.

Until Oghren walked out. In the nude.

"It's Oghren time, baby!"

"OGHREN!"

* * *

a/n: fact: I want this as a DLC option. Mass Effect 2 get a mission where they get to go to bar and wear sunglasses, Dragon Age needs one where they go to the beach. y/y/lobster?


	8. Shale and Sandal, enchantment

**Shale + Sandal, Enchantment!**

"Enchantment?"

Shale glowed. "It is a funny little thing, for a dwarf."

"Enchantment!"

Shale chuckled. "Yes, enchantment. Hard to believe I use to be a squishy little thing like yourself. That was so long ago..."

Sandal looked up at the huge golem in concern.

"Enchantment?"

"Yes. I was enchanted, I guess. It wouldn't really understand, would it?"

The little dwarf smiled, patting her large shoulder. "Enchantment?"

"I know. I'm just...feeling melancholy, that's all. No harm done."

Sandal suddenly let off a huge smile, bouncing out his seat beside Shale. "Enchantment! Enchantment!"

Shale watched in amusement as the dwarf began digging around the camp, hoping to find whatever it was looking for.

Finally, the dwarf found what he was looking for and rushed back over to Shale, holding out a large crystal proudly.

"Enchantment?"

Shale smiled, taking the crystal and observing it carefully. "Enchantment, indeed."


	9. Zevran x f Tabris, truth or dare

**F!Tabris/Zevran, Truth or Dare**

"Truth or dare?"

Zevran sighed. "I'm not sure I understand the point of this..."

Tabris grinned and punched him lightly in the shoulder. "Come on, it's fun! It's a way for us to get to know one another!"

The assassin knew he wasn't going to get out of this, so he sighed. "Very well. Dare."

Tabris grinned. "Very well. I dare you to…spy on Morrigan while she's bathing!"

Zevran laughed. "Have you no faith in my skills? This will be easy."

Two hours later, he was beginning to doubt that claim.

It turns out the tree beside the lake wasn't the most stable, and with his weight, it—

Broke.

And he fell.

Right into the lake, with Morrigan.

Needless to say, he was still trying to heal the burns and bruises.

It didn't help that Tabris was laughing at him.

"My poor, poor assassin." She kissed him on the cheek, right below where a particularly vicious bruise had formed. "Do you need me to kiss it better?"

"Yes." He pulled her down into his lap.

She laughed, and kissed every scar, bruise, and burn he got from that silly dare.

He decided it was worth it.


	10. Alistair and Eamon, procrastination

**Alistair + Eamon, procrastination**

He knew, deep within his heart, that he was suppose to be working. That these papers didn't fill themselves out; that, as King, it was his responsibility to make sure these things happened.

But _Maker_, he didn't want to.

Which was why Eamon found him at his desk, playing with his figurines.

The Chancellor dropped the papers he was carrying.

"Alistair!" Eamon shrieked. "What are you doing? Aren't you supposed to be working?"

Alistair groaned. "Come on, Eamon! I work all the time!"

"Alistair, I did not help put you on this throne just for you to goof off and ignore your responsibilities—"

"I'm not ignoring my responsibilities!" The young King argued. "I'm just...putting them off. For the moment."

Eamon glared.

"You could—join me? You know, take the afternoon off?"

When Isolde actually _found_ her husband, he was with the King, reenacting the Orlesian war with figurines on top of _very important_ papers.

It was, Eamon figured, an afternoon well-spent.


	11. Alistair x f Brosca, dead or alive

**Alistair/f!Brosca, Wanted Dead or Alive**

"You're a criminal!"

Bellara Brosca looked at her ex-boyfriend as though he were an idiot and _not,_ say, the King of Ferelden. "Well, you broke up with me. What did you expect me to do?"

"Not take up a life of crime! Maker's breath, Bell, you're the _hero of Ferelden!_ Why on Earth would you become a jewel thief?"

The dwarf shrugged. "Eh, I was bored."

Alistair hit his head with his palm. "You—--you were bored. You are wanted _dead or alive in five different countries _because you were _bored?"_

Bellara blinked. "Five countries? Really? That's a new record!"

_"That's not something to be proud of!"_

"Oh, cheer up, mate." She smiled, teasing him lightly. "If this whole being King business doesn't work out for you, you're more than welcome to join my crime team."

Alistair looked over the wanted poster in agony. "I think you've stolen more than what's in Ferelden's treasury right now."

She patted his shoulder with a smile. "Well, think of it this way: at least I haven't stolen from you?"

"Oh yes. That makes things look _so much better."_

She kissed his cheek. "I thought it might."

* * *

Fact--I had waayyyy too much fun with this one


	12. Leliana x Anders, pets

**Leliana/Anders, Pets**

"I call him Schmooples."

The blonde man snorted out his drink. "You—you---_Schmooples?"_

The bard blushed. "Yes, Schmooples." She huffed. "Why, what did you name your cat?"

Now it was the mage's turn to flush. "Uh, Ser-Pounce-A-Lot." He muttered under his breath.

Leliana blinked. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you. What did you say his name was?"

"His name is...Ser-Pounce-A-Lot."

Leliana gasped. "Oh, that's so adorable! Can I hold him?"

Anders blushed. "Uh, sure, just be careful—"

But he didn't get a chance to finish, because Leliana's arms were soon full of yellow tabby.

"Aw, who's an adorable kitty? Why, you're an adorable kitty! Oh yes you are! Awww."

It was funny: Anders always thought having a kitten would help him get chicks, not have them, you know, completely ignore you in favor of your cat.

Oh well. At least Ser-Pounce-A-Lot was adorable. It was something, at least.


	13. Alistair x f Cousland, without you

**Alistair/f!Cousland, Without You**

It wasn't fair. Life moved on. People eventually forgot who Alistair was, what he had done, what he _fought for._

It wasn't right. Even the people she traveled with, her supposed friends, acted like Alistair hadn't been there, like he wasn't the one who killed the archdemon, at the cost of his own life.

Why was she the only one who cared?

Was it because she didn't make him King? Was that why no one seemed to care?

_It wasn't supposed to be like this._ She looks up at Amaranthine and frowns. _You were supposed to be with me. We were supposed to rebuild the Wardens together. We were suppose to—we were suppose to—_

She stops in the middle of the road, falling to her knees.

"My lady?" Mhairi asks, looking at the former Teyrn's daughter in concern. "Are you alright?"

_I can't do this. I can't. I can't._


	14. Anders and Alistair x f Amell, escort

**Anders + Alistair/f!Amell, Escort**

Of all the unusual situations Anders had found himself in, this was one he would have never predicted. Not by a long shot.

"So, uh, I noticed you're the King."

The King looked at the mage in bewilderment. "I am? When did that happen? How do I make it stop?"

Anders scowled. "Oh, very funny."

The King grinned. "I try, I try."

"So tell me: how does a mage get to be so important that the King himself shows up to escort her back to Denerim?"

The King smiled even wider. "Well, you see—"

Just then, the Commander came bounding into the room, jumped into the King's arms, and kissed him senseless. Anders's jaw dropped.

"You're finally here!" His Commander cheered, kissing her King. "I've missed you terribly!"

The King kissed her back. "I've missed you, too."

Anders left his jaw on the floor.


	15. Alistair x f Mahariel, culture shock

**Alistair/f!Mahariel, Culture Shock**

"Ow, that hurts!"

"Oh, stop being a big baby! Weren't you the one asking Zevran about tattoos, anyway?"

Alistair groaned. "Yes. I just wasn't expecting you to actually _start tattooing my face!"_

His love laughed. "Well, it's a good idea! All Dalish have tattoos."

He frowned at her. "In case you've forgotten, love, _I'm not Dalish."_

She giggled. "Oh, I know. But this way, you'll be accepted as part of the clan."

He raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Well, they might stop shooting at you, at least."

He figured that was a plus. "Wait, so does this mean we're family now?"

His love dropped the ink and laughed softly. "Hmm, do you really want to be kissing your sister like you kiss me?"

"Good point."

He stood still as she continued to apply the tattoo. "Well, I guess it means we're married, though."

In later years, people would ask him why his face tattoo was smeared. He never had the courage to admit he passed out.

His wife, however, told the story to anyone who would listen.


	16. Alistair x m Amell, sex or death 1

**Alistair/m!Amell, Sex or Death 1**

"WE CHOOSE DEATH!" Alistair yelled bravely.

The witch raised an eyebrow. "Very well."

They exploded.


	17. Alistair x m Amell, sex or death 2

**Alistair/m!Amell, Sex or Death 2**

Sometimes, Alistair forgot just what sort of depraved individual Leonardo Amell was.

"We'll take sex, of course." The mage answered, as though it were obvious.

Alistair sputtered, trying to find a way to respond. "A-are you _insane?"_

Leonardo grabbed him, trying to get him to shut up. "You've never dealt with many mages, have you? She could kill us with her brain."

"But—I mean—how can we—"

"It's simple." Leonardo answered. "Take off your pants."

Alistair face, if anything, got redder. "B-b-but she's _watching."_

"I think that's the point."

"How can you be so calm?!"

Leo snorted. "It's simple. I'm not a Templar _prude._ Also, I don't want to die."

Before Alistair could respond, Leo snuck up beside him, wrapped his arms around him, and kissed him deeply, soundly, _magically._ Alistair moaned.

Above them, the witch cackled.


	18. Zevran, pole dance

**Zevran, Pole Dancing**

"Zevran," his lady Warden asked, temper and curiosity rising. "Why is there a stick in the middle of the camp?"

"It's a pole."

"Okay then," the lady asked, slightly amused. "Why is there a pole in the middle of the camp?"

He threw off his shirt sexily, shaking his hips while doing so. He then grabbed the pole and _swung_, his body twisting and twirling gracefully, showing off his toned muscles, the ripples in his arms, his sexy hair.

It was going so _well,_ too. Her eyes were widened considerably, her mouth dropped open in arousal…

Then Alistair had to open his big fat stupid mouth.

"Ha! You look like such a little girl!" Alistair laughed loudly.

Leliana giggled. "Oh, I don't know. I think it's rather attractive."

"Yeah, if you're into girly men." Alistair snorted, wrapping his arms around Lady Cousland tightly. "Come on, love. I'll go show you what _real_ men do in their spare time."

He whispered something into her ear, and the Lady's face turned scarlet.

Zevran just got _owned_ by a _virgin._

Sometimes, life just wasn't fair.


	19. Sten x f Tabris, rogues do it from behin

**Sten/f!Tabris, Rogues Do It From Behind**

"Hey Sten, you think you're so tough—I bet I could beat you in a fight!"

The Qunari snorted. "Unlikely. The only way you would win in a fight against me would be if I let you win, elf."

The elf raised an eyebrow. "You think so? Wanna prove it?"

Sten sighed. "I have no quarrel with you, elf. Begone."

"No. Not until you fight me."

Sten could see there was no arguing with her. "Very well. Arm yourself."

The elf simply grinned, and pulled out two worn, trust daggers from her boots.

The elf turned her attention back to Sten. "Ready Sten? First one to draw blood wins."

The Qunari nodded.

Immediately, he found himself at a disadvantage: the elf kicked up some dust that went straight into his eyes, temporarily blinding him. By the time he was able to open his eyes, the elf was simply...gone.

_This is unlike her._ He thought himself. For the most part, he considered his elvish commander to be the honorable sort. It was unlike her to simply quit the fiel—

The he felt it. The dagger, straight in his back.

"Hehe, didn't anyone ever teach you rogues do it from behind?" She laughed, removing the bloody dagger. He did not have to look at his back to know it was nothing more than a light scratch. "I think this means I win, huh, Sten?"

"I am unused to such tactics. You will have to show how you won." Mostly, it unnerved him, to be so easily defeated. _Never again,_ he promised.

"I will. But first, don't you think the winner should get a prize?"

He frowned. "What is your wish, Kadan?"

The grin on her face could only be described as wolfish, her breath on his face. "Oh, I can think of a few things..."


	20. Alistair x f Cousland, kneeling

**Alistair/Queen Cousland, Kneeling**

"Maker's breath! Is that the _King?"_ Mhairi gasped in a mixture of excitement and dread.

Elissa looked up. Well, what do you know? It was her husband!

"Quick, Commander, kneel!" Mhairi whispered, dropping down to one knee. "We d-don't want to seem disrespectful to the King!"

Did these people really have no idea who she was? Oh well. They'd learn soon enough.

She knelt regardless.

"Seems I'm a bit late," Alistair announced as he drew closer. "What a shame. I rather missed the whole darkspawn killing thing."

"K-king Alistair!" Mhairi whispered in awe and fear.

But Alistair paid little attention to the new recruit, instead focusing on his wife knelt on the ground before him. "What are _you_ doing?"

Elissa looked up and chuckled. "A well-intending recruit told me it was proper to kneel before the King, your Majesty."

Alistair snorted. "That may be true for most people, but my _wife_ is usually an exception to the rule."

(_"Wife?"_ Anders whispered conspiringly. "Did he just say _wife?_ The Commander is the _bloody Queen of Ferelden_ and no one told me?"

Mhairi didn't answer, instead keeping her nose to the ground in embarrassment.)

Elissa simply grinned. "Oh, I don't know. I thought maybe the sight of me on my knees might give you something to look forward in the coming months? You know, when you'll be all alone, out in the Bannorn..."

The King flushed scarlet before giving her a hand up. "You're a vile temptress. Never let anyone tell you otherwise."

Elissa giggled. "I thought that's why you liked me?"

"It's definitely part of it."

He pulled her close to him, kissing her passionately for all of Amarathine to see.

It was _good_ to be Queen.


	21. Nathaniel x f Cousland, hot snark

**Nathaniel/f!Cousland, Hot Snarkiness**

Of all the people in the world, the last person Elissa Cousland ever expected to see herself working with was Nathaniel Howe.

It shouldn't have been, considering she spent most of her childhood lazing around with the eldest of the Howe boys, but after the betrayal, it became difficult to remember that. To remember that the Howes use to be the dearest of friends and not the most hated of enemies.

Not that Nathaniel was making it easy for her.

"After you, Elissa." He held the door open for her.

She scowled. "You don't get to call me that. You haven't earned the _right_ to call me by my first name."

He leaned in behind, so close she could smell his cologne and feel his breath on her neck. "What should I call you then, Elissa?"

She scowled at him. _Commander, like everyone else._ "I think my Lady should work."

He bit his lip. "Very well then, _my Lady._ After you."

Damn him. Damn him to the farthest levels of the Fade and back.

"What?" He whispered slowly. "Did I hit a nerve?"

Damn him. Damn him, damn him, _damn him._

"You know, I heard you were going to be _Queen."_ He whispered, his breath hot on her neck, his teeth tantalizingly close to her ear. "That you were going to marry that boy. What was his name again? Alex? Anderson?"

_"Alistair."_ She whirled around to face him, tears unwillingly gathering in her eyes. "His name was _Alistair,_ and he was a better man than you will _ever_ be."

"That so? Well tell me, _Pup,"_ He spat the childhood name like an insult. "Did he love you? Did he spout off pretty words to you, tell you you were beautiful?"

He stepped even closer, forcing Elissa back into a wall. He put his arms about her, effectively trapping her against him.

"Did he make love to you? Worship your body, kiss your pretty little lips and tell you he loved you?"

"Yes." She breathed, tears streaming freely now. "Yes, of course he did. He loved me. I l-l-loved _him."_

Nathaniel closed the distance between the two of them, capturing her lips with his own, and Elissa began to forget.


	22. Nathaniel x f Cousland, moving on

**Nathaniel/f!Cousland (/Alistair-ish), sexytimes**

"Elissa…" He moves closer, his lips capturing hers in a frenzy of lust. "Elissa…" He whispers, her name like honey on his lips.

Maker, she didn't _care._ All she knew was this beautiful man and the feel of his tongue dancing with hers, the weight of his hands as they caressed her skin. She hasn't felt this good in a long time, not since...

She kisses him harder, pushing him against the wall. Anything to keep the thought of Alistair out of her mind.

He grasps at her shirt, trying to tug it off so he can reach his desire underneath it. It is a familiar game they play, one from when they were both Pups trying to prove they were something larger in a world that mostly ignored them in favor of their brothers.

She remembers a time when this didn't hurt as much, when his hands were painfully gentle. Now, however, it's rough, all nails and scratching and teeth and _oh Maker,_ when did he learn _that?_

She feels him lift her skirt, fingers trailing along her smallclothes, and a plea in his eyes asking a question he already knows the answer to.

She nods; it is enough.

With passion, or maybe its fury, he plunges inside of her, sinking his hardness deep into her heat.

This is the closest she has been with a man in eight months, and it still feels painfully like betrayal, even if she has no one to betray.

He moans, and pushes into her harder, faster, rocking his hips against hers, and Andraste's holy knickers, she's missed _this._ This warmth, this companionship, this feeling of another human being inside of her, loving her.

He moves against her, steady and furious and beautiful; she closes her eyes and pretends he's someone else.


	23. Alistair x f Surana, baby mage

**Alistair + f!Surana, baby mage**

When the young Princess was born, the Kingdom celebrated. After all, with the death of the Queen from the birthing process, it was likely the young Princess would be the only heir the Kingdom received.

And she was a pretty child, all bouncy red curls and her father's deep brown eyes. No one could say she didn't belong to the King: in fact, the child was born with the misfortune of looking just like him. According to the King's friend and adviser (after ten years, Alistair figured he _had_ to consider Zevran a friend), the girl would grow to look just like him, but with breasts, and therefore quite the beauty.

But as the girl grew older, Alistair began realizing his daughter was a little...different. Not in a bad way! And Maker knew he still loved and adored her, but still. _Different._

"Princess, sweetie, can you hand Daddy his water? He's got a meeting with the Wardens and—"

"No!" The four year old giggled, throwing the glass of water to the floor.

(Okay, so she was a bit of a brat, but she was _his_ brat, and he wasn't about to let her go any time soon.)

He frowned at his daughter. "Rose, what did I tell you about making messes? Clean it up."

The girl pouted. "But Daddy—"

_"Now."_

With a flick of the girl's wrist, the water froze in into a solid sheet of ice on the hard floor.

Alistair stopped breathing.

Rose caught on quickly. "Daddy? Did I do bad?"

No. No, this couldn't be. His daughter couldn't be a mage! How could that work? Was it because of the taint? Maker's breath, what was he going to do?

A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts temporarily. "Alistair, you're late to our meeting. And I don't care if you're naked, I'm coming in anyway."

Neria walked in and smiled. "Hello Princess. How are you today?"

Rose giggled. "I made ice!"

Neria raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? Could you show me?"

With another flick of her wrist, the ice turned back into water, then back into ice again.

Neria gasped. "Andraste's flaming sword! She's a mage!"

"Don't remind me."

"Don't remind you? This is wonderful!" Neria picked up the little princess and twirled her around the room. "_Mr. I can't marry you because you're a mage and an elf,_ look what we've got here!"

Rose kept giggling, even as Alistair groaned in anguish.

"You're never going to let me live this down, are you?"

His ex grinned. "Nope, never."

* * *

Fact: this works perfectly with my crack theory that magic skips a generation, and Templars are born the generation between mages. Enjoy!


	24. Alistair Wynne Oghren, drinking

**Wynne + Oghren + Alistair, Drinking Games**

It was, Alistair figured, the battle of the century. The stakes were high, the rewards even higher, and to the victor would go the spoils of war:

Never having to be the one to wake up their darling elf mage and his lover _ever again._

It was, in Alistair's honest opinion, the greatest reward a warrior could receive. Especially because whoever had to wake Mical and Zevran up usually got an unwelcomed eyeful of elf penis. Penises. Penii. _Whatever._

That, and Mical tended to set whoever dared to disturb his beauty on fire first thing in the morning.

Wynne's argument had been that Alistair, as a Templar, could best handle magic first thing in the morning and Oghren, as a dwarf, had the best natural resistance to Mical's spells. And, you know, she was a woman, and it was inappropriate to see the young men's, ah, things hanging out.

Alistair's argument had been the Wynne, as a Mage, could easily put out Mical's spells faster than Alistair could block them. And, you know, he had no desire to see elf penis. Ever.

Oghren's argument had been eerily similar to Alistair's in that his main point was the he never wanted to see a naked elf for the rest of his life.

Which brought them here, circled around a table like hardened warriors of old, mugs of frosted ale in their hands.

"The name of the game is simple," Oghren smiled, lifting his glass friendly-like. "Whoever passes out first has to wake up the lovers every morning, without question. Are you ready, ladies?"

Alistair still wasn't entirely sure when he had agreed on a drinking game to settle this, but he knew he had at least one ace up his sleeve:

The Taint.

In addition to giving Grey Wardens the ability to sense darkspawn and granting them sexual prowess in bed, the Taint also burned the alcohol out of his bloodstream twice as fast as a it would a normal person.

Let the games begins.


	25. Alistair x f Aeducan, pregancy panic

**Alistair/f!Aeducan, Pregnancy Panic**

This could _not_ be happening.

It couldn't. It _shouldn't._ Dwarves struggled to conceive even in the best of times, and with the Taint running through her blood conception should have been nigh impossible. Especially considering her mate was human and also a Grey Warden. It just...it wasn't suppose to work like that!

Yet here she was, fumbling with her hands uncomfortably while Wynne poked and prodded and asked her embarrassing questions.

It wasn't that having a baby would be a _bad_ thing, necessarily. In fact, Alistair would probably absolutely ecstatic at the thought of being a father, given his own crappy childhood.

It was just the _timing_ of the thing, really. What, with the archdemon looming about and that army they needed to recruit. A baby would complicate thing considerably, if not make their mission completely impossible.

_I suspect we could just take some time off._ She thought wryly. _You know. Tell that pesky archdemon to go a while for a year or so, then finish it off when it isn't looking. He'll never suspect a thing._

"Well, I have good news." Wynne announced, removing her glowing hands from Lady Aeducan's abdomen. "You aren't pregnant."

"Thank the Ancestors." She sighed with relief. "But, my bleedings..."

"I believe you are just stressed." Wynne said comfortingly. "Sometimes, when a woman becomes stressed, her body simply skips a bleeding. Not to mention you are also athletic. That affects things as well. Still, you seem perfectly healthy, so there should be nothing to worry about."

Lady Aeducan smiled. "Thank you, Wynne. I really appreciate it."

Still, she let her hand linger over her stomach, as if trying to feel a life that wasn't there. _Well, I'm sure you would have been beautiful, baby._


	26. Alistair Zevran Oghren, poetry

**F!Warden, Oghren, Alistair, Zevran + poetry**

"Oh, my love, your eyes are like the bluest sapphires, your lips the color of the reddest rose, your hair the color of sunshine, an—"

"And your bosom is far larger than the bosoms of any other maiden in the camp, oh, won't you lay with me tonight?"

Alistair whirled, his face beat red with embarrassment and anger. "Zevran. Go away."

The elf grinned. "Oh? I was merely trying to help."

"Making comments about her bosom is _not helping."_

"But it is a magnificent bosom!" Zevran argued. "Surely if you are listing the qualities that make our dear Warden so beautiful, you must mention her bosom!"

Alistair flushed. "I hate you. Go away."

Just then, Oghren stepped out of his tent. "Eh? Are we making cat-calls to the Warden?"

"WHAT? Absolutely no—"

"HEY WARDEN!" Oghren shouted, drawing their fearless leader out of her tent. "NICE TITS."

The leader blinked at him. "Uh, thank you? What are you three doing, anyway?"

"Absolutely nothing." "Poetry." "Cat-calls."

They looked over at one another and nodded. "Poetry."

She looked over them suspiciously. "Right. _Poetry._ Uh, good luck with that."

As soon as her back was turned, Alistair was going to kill them.


	27. f Mahariel Tamlen Fenarel, games

**f!Mahariel/Tamlen/Fenarel, childhood games**

"Come on guys!" Anelisa yelled. "I wanna play!"

The two boys looked over each other suspiciously. Fenarel even had the nerve to glare.

"I thought we said no girls allowed!"

Tamlen blushed, rubbing hand through his blonde hair. "Well, Anelisa's not really a girl. She doesn't count."

The little red haired girl stomped her feet angrily. "I am too a girl!"

Fenarel glared. "Then you can't play with us! No girls allowed, Ani!"

Tamlen frowned, noticing how furious his friend was becoming. "Well…maybe she can be the princess? And we can try to rescue her? I mean, I don't wanna be a princess."

Fenarel seemed to see the logic in that. "Okay. Anelisa can play, but she's gotta be the princess."

"I'm not a princess!" She screamed, her tiny little hands locked tightly in fury. "I'm a warrior! See!"

She grabbed a stick and whacked Fenarel over the head with it violently, knocking him unconscious.

Two days later, the Keeper decided to enroll the young girl in warrior training.


	28. Alistair and Nathaniel, jealousy

**f!Cousland, Alistair, Nathaniel - Alistair does *not* appreciate the way Nathaniel looks at his wife**

Alistair does not like the newest Grey Warden.

His name alone brings a shiver of anger down his spine, and the fact that he attempted to kill his wife only makes him angrier. Again, he is reminded of the soother, sweeter soul that resides in his beloved: Alistair would have killed the would-be murder on the spot

But that's not why he hates him. Not really. He can only accuse Nathaniel of the same sin he has forgiven Zevran of, and it's not worth the unashamed hatred that grows in his gut, poisoning his every thought.

Alistair is _jealous._

He shouldn't be. After all, of the two of them, _Alistair_ is the one she has sworn to spend her life with, the one to whom she has promised her very life, her soul, her love, until death do they part.

Still, he cannot shake the feeling of utter repulsion when he sees that man.

If Nathaniel leered at his wife in lust, Alistair would understand. His wife is very beautiful, and Alistair is use to men staring at her in desire. It's not a feeling he would like to encourage, but it is one he understands.

Or even if Nathaniel looked at her with adoration, he could handle it. He could handle the way his eyes worshiped her, the awe of having such an amazing person consider him a friend. Alistair also knows that feeling well.

No, Nathaniel looks at his wife like _Alistair_ looks at her. Like she is his _everything_, his life, his love, his other half, the only reason he has to live.

And for that, Alistair hates him.


	29. f Mahariel x Alistair Zevran, threesome

**F!Mahariel (Taqarah) with Alistair and Zevran, Zevran prying into how the threesome was with Isabella.**

"You _didn't."_

"Oh, but I did."

"Impossible. Absolutely impossible. You couldn't have—" The assassin gasped. "You _did_, didn't you? You sly old dog."

The formally virginal King only grinned.

"Taqarah couldn't have agreed to this."

"Actually, it was her idea in the first place."

Zevran raised an eyebrow. "Truly? If I had none she had such…_diverse_ tastes…"

"Tell me about it." Alistair couldn't keep the smile off his face.

"How was it?" Zevran asked, in near reverence.

"_Amazing._ Absolutely amazing. I mean," Alistair seemed almost to drool. "Both of them. At once. _Together._"

Zevran let a light chuckle loose. "You know, I never thought it was possible, but here I am, positively green with envy from _you._"

"I know, right?" Alistair flushed under the low lighting of the Pearl. "Never in my life would I have imagined this could happen to me. _Ever._"

Zevran giggled. "Do you think, perhaps, next time I might join in the fun?"

Alistair blushed even redder. "Um…I think…perhaps maybe…"

"Of course, Zevran." Taqarah sat down beside her lover, her voice husky with lust. She traced a finger along the rim of her wine glass. "Next time, I'll make sure you have a…_personal_ invitation.


	30. f Aeducan, magic

**Vera Aeducan does **_**not**_** trust magic. At all. And Alistair doesn't understand.**

For a noble dwarf born deep inside Orzammar, magic was something unexplainable. It was also _scary_, though no one would ever admit it. She took delight in knowing dwarves were immune to the inner workings of magic.

But out here, on the surface, magic seemed so improbably large and powerful, like it could _do_ anything. And deep inside, Vera was still the little girl whose brothers teased her with stories of magic that made her skin crawl.

"I don't understand." Alistair yelled at her, rage coloring his face. "You killed Connor! You _killed a little boy!_ How could you?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Did you happen to miss the part where he was possessed by a demon?"

"No, I didn't." He snapped. "But didn't you think that if magic put the demon there, magic could take it out?"

Magic was unstable. Illogical. Unpredictable.

_Terrifying._

And it wasn't an option she was willing to take.

"I'm sorry, Alistair, but I did what I had to."

The sound of Lady Isolde's sobs would haunt her for the rest of her life, but she did what she had to. She refused to believe anything else.

* * *

A/N: I decided fairly early on that my dwarf would be terrified of magic. Of course, that decision impacted the game in ways I didn't think about earlier—she ended up killing Connor and giving the Circle to the Templars, because she didn't like magic.

One thing I love about this game is there is no good/evil. It's whatever your certain character thinks. My Aeducan is generally a "good" character, but she dislikes magic. Likewise, my elf mage is generally an asshole, but he supports the Circle and the elves, despite those choices being the "good" choices.


	31. m Surana and Alistair, harden

**Mical Surana finds he must harden his friend and brother in arms: it's not as easy as it sounds.**

_Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime. ---_**_Chinese Proverb_**

"Alistair, may I speak to you for a moment?"

"Of course."

"I want to talk to you about what happened, back at Goldanna's."

The former Templar stiffened. "You really don't have to that. I get it, she was a horrid shrew, can we please move on—"

"That's not what I want to say."

Alistair blinked. "Oh. Well, what is it, then?"

"Alistair—you are the most selfless person I know. And I say that with the utmost affection."

Alistair grinned. "Why, thank you! Truly, I'm touched."

"I'm not finished." The mage frowned. "Alistair, you are the most selfless person I know, and that's going to get you killed one day."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean the rest of the world doesn't work that same way you do." Mical scowled. "People are selfish, Alistair, and they are going to hurt you. I know you don't always…_approve_ of my actions, but I consider you a friend, which is why I am telling you this now, so you won't get hurt later: _Everyone_ is out for themselves."

Alistair frowned. "I'm not sure I follow."

"Listen to me closely: _everyone_ is out for themselves. The sooner you learn that, the better."

"Are you trying to tell me the world is full of selfish pricks, like you and Morrigan?" Alistair shook his head softly. "Because I can't believe that."

"I'm trying to tell you that everyone has an agenda. The Chantry, the mages, the dwarves, they are all looking out for themselves, and they will walk all over you if you let them."

He scowled. "Is this about my inability to lead? I already told, I prefer—"

"This isn't about leading, Alistair. This is about having a Maker-damn spine." Mical snapped. "You follow orders _blindly_, Alistair. Even when you disagree with me entirely, you still do what I tell you to do. And you've done it your entire life. Eamon tells you he's sending you to the Chantry, and you _go._ You might've been upset about it, but you still do what he told you to do." Mical shook his head. "Hell, even now he's trying to make you _King, _something you've told me you don't want at all, and _you're_ still doing whatever it is he wants!"

Alistair opened his mouth to speak, but Mical continued without him. "And it's not just Eamon. The Revered Mother, the day we met, told you to go sass a mage and _you did it anyway_, even though you didn't want to! If Duncan had told you to jump, you would said how high! Hell, Alistair, you even do it to _me_!"

"I didn't—"

"Then _why did you let me sacrifice Isolde?_ You got so upset over that, and you _let me do it anyway._"

Alistair looked down at his feet, shuffling in the dirt. "You're the leader. It was your call. I shouldn't have--"

"But you _should_ have! You should have stopped me, if you felt so strongly about it!"

"I—I don't want to fight. You, I mean. You know me, I'm more of a go-with-the-flow type of guy! I wouldn't know what to do if you tried to—to fight you over something. It's better if we all agree. My feelings don't matter that much, anyway--"

The mage grabbed Alistair by the shoulders, forcing Alistair to look at him. "Alistair, I'm going to say this one more time, and maybe this time it will get through: what do _you_, Alistair Theirin, want in this world?"

Alistair blinked. "That's easy: to stop this Blight."

"No. Too simple. Try again. Something big. Something _selfish_."

"I could _really_ go for some cheese."

"Alistair—"

"Alright, alright. I get it. Something big and selfish, hmm…" He paused, thinking curiously. "I—I guess the only thing I _really_ want is Loghain's head on a platter."

Mical smiled. "Then let's do it. When we get through this landsmeet, I want you to kill Loghain."

"But, that might---"

"Damn the politics, Alistair. Just this once. You've _got_ to look out for yourself, Alistair, and you've got to look out for what _you_ want. If you want to be King, don't let anyone in this world stop you. And if you want to run to Antiva and become a pirate, well, don't let anyone stop you there, either." Mical chuckled. "I'm not trying to tell you to ignore everyone else, only do what you want, and basically become a giant jerk. I don't think you _would_, anyway. But what I am saying is that you got to look after what Alistair wants. Because no one else is going to."

Alistair frowned. "Thank you, Mical. I—I will have to think about what you said. You—you're probably right. I do need to look out for myself a bit more."

"That's all I could want, my friend."


	32. Nathaniel x Anders, lovers

_**Lovers, Nathaniel/Anders**_

_

* * *

  
_

What do you do when you are the last two Grey Wardens in Ferelden? If history is anything to go on, you do as your Commander did before you: raise an army, overthrow a King, fall in love.

_(kill an archdemon, declare yourselves King and Queen—you know, the usual, everyday sort of thing.)_

After the Mother's death, the team fell apart pretty quickly. The Commander went back to her husband in Denerim, and Justice went back to the Fade. Velanna went to find her sister, and Sigrun went to find death. Oghren went home. Even Anders left for a time—but he came back. He always came back.

As Anders snores gently into his chest, Nathaniel thinks _well, one out of three isn't so bad, _and pulls his lover close, enjoying the warmth and feel of another beside him.

On the other side of the bed, Ser Pounce a Lot purrs softly into the night, and the sound lures Nathaniel gently back to sleep.


	33. Alistair and Zevran, fools

_**Fools, Alistair + Zevran**  
_

_

* * *

  
_

Gwaren needed a new Teyrn, and it needed a new Teyrn _bad_. With Loghain dead and Anora imprisoned, the nobles had begun squabbling over themselves over who would take over the teynir. He needed to appoint someone, and he needed to do it _now._

"Do as King Maric did." His Queen advices him, one hand resting gently on his back. "Appoint a commoner to the position—perhaps one of your friends who helped you during the Blight?"

The idea seems ridiculous, and Alistair snorts in response. "Who would I give the position to, Zevran?"

He meant it as a joke, but the idea _does_ have potential, if only to see the looks on the Court's faces when he announces an Antivan _elf_ _assassin_ as the new Teyrn of Gwaren. _That would teach them._

And because he is Alistair and he cannot resist a practical joke, he announces to the Court that Zevran Arainai will be the new Teyrn of Gwaren, for his service to the crown and for his contributions during the Blight.

Eamon had a heart attack.


	34. Alistair x f PC, dares

_**Dares, Alistair/f!PC**_

* * *

"Truth or dare."

"Truth."

"Very well." Her smile was almost feral as she gazed at him like a lioness to her prey. "Have you ever been kissed? I know you're a virgin..."

He scowled at her. "Yes, I've been kissed. And no, it wasn't exactly pleasant."

Her grin faded, replaced by a look of--was that envy? "Oh? And who was the lucky girl?"

He smiled at her. "I believe that would be telling, wouldn't it? And it's my turn--truth or dare?"

She grinned. "Dare."

Oh crap. He wasn't expecting that answer, to be honest--he planned on drilling her on her sexual history, not...daring her to do something!

"I hate you. You're a bad person."

She only smiled widely, as if expecting his reaction. "Oh? I thought that was the point of the game. What, can you not think of some _daring_ task for me to accomplish?"

She leaned in closer, too close, actually, for he could smell the whiskey on her breath. "What shall I do for you, my dear bastard prince? Shall I steal Sten's sword? Run around camp naked?" His breath hitched unexpectedly as he pictured her at the task. "Liked that idea, do you?"

The thought was tempting, but it felt too much like letting her win. He forced the blush off his face and looked her dead in the eye. "I dare you to kiss..."

Her eyes widened in approval as she leaned in closer...

"...Leliana."

His beloved Warden jumped back with a shock. _"What?_ You want me to _encourage her?_"

He giggled. "Oh yes. Tongue and all, please."

As she stalked away to find the beloved red-headed bard, Alistair knew one thing was for sure--they would never play truth or dare again, not if she could help it.

* * *

  
A/N--Done for dao_challenge lightning round. Kept ambiguous for your pleasure. Also, I'm not knocking anyone who ships f!pc/Leliana--but if you are trying to _not _romance the girl, she tends to be obsessively stalking you.


	35. Justice and f PC, possession

**Justice, f!PC. Vague f!PC/Alistair. Possession**

* * *

The spirit's request is not unreasonable.

In truth, she is a bit tired of living, anyway. Twenty-two years is a long time when you think about it. Mostly, she is tired of being alone, and, _oh Maker,_ has she been alone. Since Alistair's death, really.

_You remind me of him._ She tells the rotting corpse gently, one hand caressing the skeletal remains of a once-handsome young man. And in truth, he does. Justice reminds her so much of Alistair sometimes that it's painful to even look at him. She hadn't realized how noble, how pure and unselfish her dead lover was until she met the embodiment of Justice. Sometimes, she wishes they would have met in the Fade earlier, and Justice could have possessed Alistair's body instead, brought her lover back to life and back to her side where he belonged.

It's a good dream, at least, even if it's too late for it now.

_Promise me you'll take care of them?_ She gestures to the Keep behind her where Anders, Nathaniel, Oghren, Velanna, Sigrun--and soon, Zevran and Leliana, sleep. _They were the only thing I stuck around for, after all._

_My lady, you have my word._

She believes him because Justice doesn't lie and doesn't hurt people who don't deserve it. And she doesn't think she deserves it, not really.

Well, okay then. _Let's get this over with._

He nods, and rests a gentle hand upon her forehead. _May you find peace wherever you wander, and may the rest of the Spirits in the Fade watch over you as fondly as I have._ It is a good prayer and an even better goodbye.

In that moment, the Warden-Commander of Ferelden dies, and Justice takes her place.

No one ever notices.

XXX  
END


	36. Bryce x Eleanor, softer arts my ass

**Bryce x Eleanor, "Softer Arts My Ass"**

A/N: Because I was disappointed with the lack of Couslands mentioned anywhere in the Stolen Throne. Took slightly longer than 15 minutes because it got long.

* * *

Of Teyrn Cousland's four children, Bryce was the youngest.

And, if the sparse letters from home were correct, the only one still alive.

_Come home, Pup._ Says the tired scrawl of his father's handwriting. _We've lost. The Orlesians have won._

A pause: _Please don't make me bury another son._

Bryce ignores his father's pleas because he understands that this is something bigger than himself, something far larger than the preservation of the Cousland line. That, and didn't _Cousland's always do their duty?_ Wasn't that what Father preached to them every day growing up? How could he ask Bryce to simply _ignore_ this?

He is so lost in thought he doesn't noticed the chevalier coming at him until it's almost too late.

_I'm going to die, I'm going to die. Father was right, I'm going to __**die **__and-_

He feels the arrow before actually hears it, and watches in awe as the man who would have killed him falls dead with an arrow in his throat.

He looks up and meets the beautiful green eyes of his savior, his Lady of War, his commanding officer. _Eleanor._

He might have fallen in love at that moment, his heart racing from adrenaline and something else, something a little more feral.

She looks at him and sighs. "If you are going to wander away from camp, Cousland-" She refuses to call him by his first name. "-at least take someone with you."

He watches her leave and tries not to focus on her hindquarters.


	37. Leandra x Orsino, I'll elf your mother

Leandra/Orsino "I'll Elf Your Mother"

* * *

"MOTHER!"

"What?" Leandra asks her eldest, naked from the waist up. "I told you I was going to start dating again."

Marian's mouth opens, closes, opens again. "You didn't say you were going to start dating _the bloody First Enchanter."_

The naked elf smiles at her from underneath the covers. "I'd introduce myself, but I'm afraid I'm not decent at the moment."

Leandra giggles.

Marian foams at the mouth and wonders if Kirkwall really needs a First Enchanter after all.


	38. Varric, I'll write you a song

Varric, I will write you a song

* * *

"I'll write a song about you someday." He promises, in the seedy underglow of the tavern's light.

Bianca laughs, her face flushed from either embarassment or whiskey. "Promises promises, Thethras. You and every other boy in this bar."

He leans forward, still a young man unafraid of the world, light still glimmering in his eyes. "But I _mean_ it."

(Years later, he hums her song under his breath as he loads up his crossbow, steady, aimed, and-fire.)


	39. Fenris x Isabela, UST expert

Fenris/Isabela, UST Expert

* * *

"You are an expert at unresolved sexual tension, you know that?"

He can _smell_ the whiskey on her breath, and he frowns. "I hope you have a point, Isabela?"

She grins. "Nope, not a one." she hiccups, and it occurs to him that perhaps she's reached her limit, that she's had just a little bit too much to drink. "Just that it doesn't have to be unresolved _forever_, you know."

Fenris glows. "Ah. But if I gave in to you, I would no longer be an expert now, would I?"

But she isn't listening. Instead, she grabs his and kisses him, and for the next minute and a half he doesn't brood, doesn't think about Denarius or magic or Hawke or anything like that.

It's...nice, actually. She's a good kisser, even when she is drunk off her ass and her kisses taste like whiskey and rum. It disturbs him that his next thought is a wonder at what she tastes like when she isn't drinking.

She pulls away from him, giggling. "You're too good. You should be bad, like me! Then you wouldn't brood all the time."

She gets off his lap, waltzing to her room in the Hanged Man, and he catches himself considering it.


End file.
